The door was opened with ceremony, and the gentlemen entered—Sir Henry, courtly and precise in bearing, with the fine air of a man who had served in Parliament in less turbulent times; and his son, Mr. Dashwood, a tall young gentleman of nine-and-twenty, whose quiet manner suggested self-command rather than pride. Their bows were executed with care. The footman withdrew a single pace and remained by the door.
“Lady Catherine,” the baronet said, “we are at your service.”
“I thank you both,” she replied with gracious dignity. “Your presence at Rosings this evening has been of singular pleasure, and I should be remiss not to say that your conduct—both on and off the dance floor—has met with my fullest approval.”
“You are most kind,” Mr. Dashwood said, bowing once more.
Lady Catherine indicated the chairs. “Pray, be seated. I shall not detain you long, but I wished to express—directly andwithout subterfuge—that the true culmination of this evening’s entertainment has not yet been revealed.”
Sir Henry exchanged a look with his son, polite but curious. “Indeed, your ladyship?”
“Yes,” she said, folding her hands with self-assurance. “While the assembly has afforded agreeable diversion, I believe in higher purposes. I have therefore arranged for a supper, presently to be served in the blue dining parlour. It is not merely a refreshment of the body, but an opportunity for further observation and discourse. The younger guests will, I trust, find it most… illuminating.”
She let the word hang in the air with theatrical weight.
Mr. Dashwood glanced toward the fireplace, where a discreet branch of laurel ornamented the mantle—possibly a detail unnoticed by others, but not by him.
“I shall look forward to it,” he said with a slight inclination of the head.
“Excellent,” Lady Catherine pronounced with regal satisfaction. “But before we adjourn to that more convivial setting, I have one more detail to arrange.” She nodded towards the footman. “Find Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy and inform them that I wish to speak with them shortly as possible.”
With a final bow, the servant was gone, and Lady Catherine leaned back in her chair with the air of a general confident in the success of her campaign.
“My nephew and his sister Miss Darcy, I trust, may benefit from the society of such distinguished company. Allow me an instant and I shall explain what Providence sent to my mind.”
Sir Henry inclined his head, as if he began to suspect something. “Miss Darcy has been much admired this evening, Lady Catherine.”
“Indeed, she has,” Lady Catherine replied, her voice edged with strategic precision. “She is a young woman of distinguished understanding, unspoiled by the excesses of modern fashion and wholly capable of managing an estate should her husband require it. Naturally, I should not mention such things,” she added with a dismissive wave of her hand, “were I not among friends who understand the importance of family and propriety.”
The door opened once more, and the footman reappeared, his voice low but clear. “Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy, your ladyship.”
Lady Catherine rose at once, inclining her head with studied grace as her guests entered the room. Mr. Darcy’s manner was his usual mixture of composed vigilance and restrained politeness; his sister, pale and poised, curtsied with elegant precision, her eyes briefly flicking to the two seated gentlemen before settling, dutifully, on their aunt.
“My dear Georgiana,” said Lady Catherine, taking her niece’s hand as if bestowing favour rather than offering greeting. “Mr. Darcy. I thank you both for attending so promptly.”
“Your message conveyed urgency, Aunt,” Mr. Darcy replied, his voice neutral, though his glance shifted inquisitively toward the baronet and his son. “I trust all is well?”
“Perfectly,” Lady Catherine replied, with that particular tone which always implied that matters could only be otherwise if left in lesser hands. “Indeed, we are most excellently situated. Sir Henry Dashwood and his son were good enough to oblige me with a brief visit before supper, and I wished you both to bepresent for what I am persuaded shall prove a conversation of mutual consequence.”
Miss Darcy lowered her gaze. Mr. Dashwood, seated beside his father, inclined his head politely. Mr. Darcy’s expression remained unchanged, but one brow arched by the smallest degree.
“Then let us be seated,” Lady Catherine continued, gesturing with regal magnanimity. “There is little I value more than plain speaking among honourable families.”
The party reassembled accordingly—Darcy and Georgiana taking the chairs nearest their aunt, while the Dashwoods resumed their places on the opposite side. Lady Catherine surveyed the arrangement with approval and smiled.
“I shall come to the point,” she said, folding her hands atop her lap with an air of deliberation. “In this modern age, so full of indecision and moral decline, it is refreshing—indeed essential—to reassert the value of prudent alliances. We are none of us strangers to the importance of sound connexions. Miss Darcy, with her admirable qualities, her education, and her fortune, is precisely the sort of young lady whose future ought to be settled with the gravity and discernment such advantages deserve.”
Georgiana shifted slightly in her seat, though her expression did not waver. Darcy, beside her, sat very still, the effort of restraint visible only in the firmness of his posture.
Lady Catherine turned her gaze toward Sir Henry. “Your son, Mr. Dashwood, has distinguished himself this evening by his temperate behaviour, good manners, and an evident appreciation for society that is neither too loud nor too lax. These are rare traits in a gentleman of the current generation. I have therefore taken the liberty of imagining what a union between him and my niece might produce—not merely in termsof domestic felicity, but of enduring respectability for both families.”
A long pause followed, her ladyship’s words hanging in the air while the gentlemen exchanged brief, questioning glances.
“If I may be pardoned, Aunt,” Darcy said at last, his voice controlled but unmistakably firm, “this is a matter in which I should have been consulted, and you know very well that you have avoided doing so.”
“A moment, Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine replied briskly. “I know and respect your opinion. But I do not share it. Perhaps we should hear the opinion of my guests.”
Mr. Dashwood cleared his throat, but it was Sir Henry who spoke first, his voice unhurried and unfailingly courteous. “Your ladyship honours us with such consideration. Indeed, we are much flattered by your confidence in my son’s character. He has, I hope, always borne himself in a manner worthy of his name. However—”
